by RJ Crayton
Prophecy of Light — Trapped
By RJ Crayton
(Part 1, Prophecy of Light Series)
Copyright RJ Crayton 2016.
All Rights Reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Version: POLT161022
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Table of Contents
Chapter 1 - Caught
Chapter 2 - Alone
Chapter 3 - A Stranger
Chapter 4 - Master
Chapter 5 - Dinner with a Dwarf
Chapter 6 - No Man’s Land
Chapter 7 - Hakari Ahet
Chapter 8 - Questions
Chapter 9 - Dreams
Sneak Preview - Unleashed
Also By RJ Crayton
About RJ Crayton
Dedication
This book is dedicated to anyone who feels trapped in the darkness There is light within.
Chapter 1 - Caught
The air was filled with sand. That was all I could see when I awoke. I wasn’t even sure what had jolted me from my sleep — a noise, maybe. Whatever had awakened me, when I opened my eyes, there was a cloud of dust like a surging sandstorm. Everything shook.
Boom! A loud blast, one that vibrated everything in its wake, ripped through the house. Our house.
I didn’t understand. Who would blast our house? I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned, but could see little amidst the dust. “Come, Kady,” I heard Auntie say. Before my eyes could make her out through the haze, she dragged me to my feet. Everything shook again, and I stumbled.
“What’s going on?” I asked Auntie.
“Shhh,” she said, and she stuffed a small, thick pouch into a pocket of my night tunic. Just then, a shot of light pierced the thick air. It looked almost like a firefly, only it didn’t blink and it moved too fast. The steady glow just zoomed around the tiny room, through the haze of dirt and sand, and then zoomed out just as quickly.
“What was that?” I asked, almost regretting the question as I inhaled a lung full of the sand that coated the air.
“It was a probe,” Auntie whispered. “I think it saw us. Come.”
A probe? That didn’t make any sense. What kind of probe looked like a speeding firefly? I didn’t argue. Auntie knew things, more things than she’d ever let on to me. Auntie was different that way. She loved fiercely and wholly, but she always told me that words and stories have power, more power than I knew. Words held magic in them, sometimes. Dangerous magic. That’s why she kept certain things from me. She always said it was for the best. Only right now, it didn’t seem like it had been for the best.
Whatever Auntie had been keeping from me all these years had finally caught up to us.
We shuffled out of the back door and into the early morning air. The sun hadn’t risen yet, but a faint glow to the east said it was coming. We crouched briefly behind the rubble that had been our home, and I took in a deep breath of clean air, grateful to be away from the destruction. I wondered what in the world could have caused that damage to our house, especially since everything else around looked normal and undisturbed.
Auntie pulled me up to get moving again. We were behind the market shops. Here in the desert city of Halcyon, the market was the main drag of the crowded city. Dried-mud buildings served as storefronts and homes for most of the shopkeepers. Auntie and I had been here for two years. It was the longest we’d stayed in any one place. She’d always said it wasn’t safe for us to be in one spot for an extended period. But two years ago, Auntie had gone out to the market, leaving me in the little tent we lived in in the city of Galrach. When she came back, she said, she’d met with a man named Pylum, who bore the mark of the mage. “He has a big heart and the gift of sight. He says we will be safe in Halcyon.”
So, at twelve years old, after eight years of nomad life, Auntie and I moved here. She worked as a housekeeper initially, and eventually opened the bakery. We were safe. Or, we were supposed to be.
Auntie tugged me through the alleyway formed by the backs of stores on each side. I realized I wasn’t wearing any shoes as my feet hit the sandy ground.
“Hurry,” Auntie whispered, and we ran barefoot through the alleyway. We’d gotten a couple of blocks from our house, when she stopped suddenly, and whispered “Shan-ti.” A symbol in gold appeared in the night air and then dove to the ground. A deep hole about two feet wide appeared, and as I gasped in surprise, Auntie shoved me in it. Even though I tried to scream as I fell, my voice had been taken. Literally, it was stolen. I wanted sound to come out, but nothing happened. If I could have, I would have shrieked, because I didn’t fall right. Instead of a swift slice through the air, I floated to the ground and landed billowy soft at the bottom of this newly-created pit.
I lifted my arms and jumped up, but couldn’t reach the top. The hole I’d been cast into must have been at least eight feet deep. Even though I was fourteen, I was petite for my age at barely four feet and nine inches. Above me, the hole seemed to narrow at the top, and it appeared covered with a thick mesh grate.
I could hear sounds coming from the world above but see very little through the grate. I didn’t know how Auntie had done this to me, but I wanted it to stop. I wanted to speak again. I tried calling out to Auntie. Not just Auntie, but her name, Talitha.
I wasn’t supposed to use her name aloud. Names had meanings, and here we didn’t call each other by our real names. She called me Kady, a shortened version of my name, Kadirah. Only the way she said it, it sounded almost like initials. K. D. And I called her Auntie. Always. The name she picked for herself in this place was Haleema, but most people called her “the baker lady,” and me “the baker’s niece.”
I looked up at the grate and tried to call out to her, but my voice was still gone.
A moment later, I heard a male voice, deep and sonorous, but also filled with anger. “Where is she?” the voice said.
“Away from you,” Auntie said. Only her voice was loud and commanding. So different from how she usually spoke to me. “She is lost to you, Zygam.”
The man’s voice was wicked now. “I know what you did, Talitha,” he said, his voice cold. “Encapsulating both of your powers was an excellent way to hide. Foolish, reckless, to live like these poor salabs who are without power. But it kept me from finding you.”
“How did you find us?”
The man, Zygam, did not speak. I heard a rustling of fabric, and then something else. Something odd I couldn’t quite decipher. Finally, Zygam spoke again. “Tasty,” he said, his words muffled by the sound of food in his mouth. There was a thud as something hit the ground. “They’re not as good as Fatima’s, but you were always second best.”
My heart leapt as I heard my mother’s name. Fatima. I don’t actually remember my mother. She died when I was four. Auntie said she died protecting us, her and me. But I don’t remember anything about that time, or about my mother. Not her looks, not the warmth of her hugs, the soft press of her kisses or even the sound of her voice. Still, I always feel happy when I hear her name. It makes me feel loved, even though I can’t remember anything else that goes with it. But then again, Auntie always says that words have power, and I could imagine no word more powerful than your mother
’s name.
“Do not speak her name,” Auntie said. “You are not worthy.”
“It is you who are not worthy,” Zygam said. “I give you one opportunity. Tell me where she is now, or else.”
“Or else what? You’ll kill me?” I marveled at the bravery in Auntie’s voice. I tried to shout, Stop. Don’t say such things. Run away, Auntie. But my voice was still gone.
Auntie spoke. “Kill me, Zygam. Please. Then she will forever be lost to you. You will have murdered her mother and her aunt.”
There was an interminable amount of silence, as I wondered what was happening. Had the man silently slit Auntie’s throat? I couldn’t see anything through the grate, so I didn’t know how close Zygam had been standing to Auntie. Had he been close enough and skilled enough for a deadly, silent attack? That’s when I heard the word. “Sha-al.” Something bright and gold emblazoned the sky above the grate. A thud as something large hit the ground. I felt a surge of panic.
Auntie, I tried to say, but my voice wasn’t there yet. Definitely yet, because, strange as it seemed, I felt my voice was near. It was about to return to me.
Then I heard another voice. “Lord,” a man said. “Shall I bury her?”
Terror and sorrow filled my veins. Bury her. I almost cried out with the anguish of my heart, but then I heard Zygam’s reply.
“She’s not dead,” he said. “I’ve put her in stasis. I can’t kill her. She was right about that. I need her to find Kadirah. Now that she is immobilized, Talitha’s protections will wane and I can find the girl.”
“What shall I do with the woman, then?” the other voice asked.
“Port her to the temple. I will search here for a bit, and then return if I don’t find her.”
I breathed out in relief. Auntie was simply in stasis. I wasn’t entirely sure what stasis meant, but he’d explicitly said she wasn’t dead. I needed to get out of this hole and away from here. I needed to figure out where this temple was and get to Auntie. I had to save her. I looked up at the grate to see if I could climb out. Then, some instinct told me to step back. I pressed myself against the hole’s side wall, trying to make myself disappear into it.
The low light from the world above was blotted out, and I suspected Zygam was standing over the grate, peering down into it. I prayed silently that he couldn’t see me, held my breath, and willed myself to be still. After a moment more, the light reappeared, and I thought he had moved on. I stayed there longer to make sure he was actually gone before trying to figure out how to get out of this hole.
Chapter 2 - Alone
I waited in that hole for half an hour. I sat there thinking of what it all meant. Auntie had said words had power, that there was magic, but I hadn’t quite believed her all these years. I should have. I had just seen the power of a single word. I was stuck in a hole because of it. I wasn’t sure what to make of it all. I only knew that I had to get out and find my aunt.
When the sky had lightened more and I could hear the distant sounds of the opening market, I started my escape. I used a rock I found on the bottom of the pit to carve out ridges in the hole’s clay walls. I used them as hand holds as I slowly climbed my way out. My fingernails filled with grit and clay as I climbed, and I wished I knew a magic word that would bring me to the top without all this effort. On the bright side, by the way I’d clawed my way to the top, the grate moved easily out of the way when I pushed it.
When I climbed out into the alley, the sun had risen. It was early morning, and I was wrapped in my sleeping tunic and barefoot. I needed more clothing: a head covering and shoes. The ground beneath my feet was already warm.
I was about to start down the alley toward the marketplace when I heard a weird sound, sort of like falling rocks. I turned behind me to see the hole and the grate had closed. Or perhaps disappeared was a better word. I frowned, wondering if magic lingered from my aunt, or if someone else was here.
I scanned the alley but saw no one. The only thing I noticed was bread roll Zygam had discarded. I thought of Auntie and closed my eyes. I turned away. I needed to get out of here and stay out of sight in case Zygam was still looking for me. It wasn’t uncommon for people to cover their heads in the desert heat, and I was tempted to go back to our home and search the rubble for more clothing. Something to help me blend in and look unremarkable. Only, I was afraid the people looking for me would expect that. I jogged down the alley, heading toward the streets of the market.
I’d spent my whole life running. At least, all of it that I could remember. The time when my mother was alive was lost to me, apparently too traumatic. All the memories I could grasp involved Auntie and me moving. We were always wary of strangers. We were always wary of getting too close to anyone, lest they discover who we were. We were always hiding. It was a bit of a powerless existence. There’s a certain irony in that because my name, Kadirah, means “powerful one.” But I have rarely felt powerful, and today, I felt particularly powerless.
I didn’t even know exactly what I was running from. Auntie told me people with magical powers existed. They were called mages, and they came in all varieties — good and bad. Unfortunately, the bad ones wanted me. It seemed clear where Zygam fell on the spectrum. Auntie had told me my mother was a mage, but that my powers were dormant and would remain so. I thought Auntie was wrong. I was pretty sure she only hoped I had powers. I didn’t believe I actually had any. There were many times I had tried to get powers to emerge, but nothing happened. Ever. To be honest, I didn’t even really believe that Auntie had magical powers. She never used them, saying it was dangerous. I thought they were tales she told to keep our lives on the run interesting. For surely if there were magic, we wouldn’t have to hide like this.
I had clearly been wrong. What Auntie had done earlier was magic. Powerful magic.
I’d jogged the length of the alley and now found myself at an intersection that opened up onto the far end of the main drag. I leaned against a wall and looked out, contemplating the best move. I sighed and reached into my tunic, locating the pouch Auntie had shoved in there. I opened it to find four silver coins and three gold ones. A decent amount of money for me to escape. Auntie had always said if we ever got separated, I should run as far away as possible. “Run and stay out of sight,” she had said. “Just keep going and do not to worry, because I will find you.”
Normally, I would have followed Auntie’s instructions without question. But after what happened, I couldn’t just leave. Auntie couldn’t find me because Zygam had taken her. I’d have to find her because she was in danger.
We shouldn’t have settled here. It was a bitter thought, and regret, Auntie said, was a useless emotion. But I felt it. Even if some man bearing the mark of the mage had told her this place was safe, she shouldn’t have listened. Whoever this Pylum fellow was, he’d caused this problem. He’d made Auntie think it was safe when it wasn’t. She always told me, “You have to be careful who you trust.” She always said trusting the wrong person could be devastating. It was what killed my parents. My father first, around the time I was born, and then my mother four years later. Trust isn’t something you just dole out. It must be earned.
I looked down at my dark tunic. It was covered in dirt and sand from the blast at our house, and then the hole. I still didn’t know why they’d come like that. Why not sneak in and catch us undisturbed? It didn’t make sense.
I looked back down the alley, in the direction of our house, feeling a pang of longing. Even though we’d lived in this city for two years, we’d only gotten the bakery ten months ago. Auntie reminded me daily not to go out and play with the kids. Even though we lived here, we could never truly be part of the community. Getting too close to the others would leave us open to danger. Auntie had never specified what danger. Though, having seen it, perhaps ignorance was bliss.
I had easily obeyed her strictures on not getting close to others, because who needed a better companion than Auntie? She was kind and funny. No, she is kind and funny. I had to re
member to speak of her as someone who was alive. She was not dead. She was simply in stasis. I would find her and set her free. But how?
I didn’t even know where to go or how to get there. The hard-packed dirt of the ground was brutal against my bare soles.
Shoes. They were my priority, and then a covering for my head. I needed not to be hidden, to blend in. That Zygam person said he would be looking for me.
The market was starting to crowd. It would be better if it were midday already. Then it would be packed with merchants and buyers who came from all over to sell and buy wares. With the crowds, I’d easily blend in and go unnoticed.
Auntie was good at blending in, at seeming unnoticeable and unremarkable, except for her baking. That was why we’d been caught. The bread. Her abductor found us because of Auntie’s bread. It was sublime. The best bread around. She always said that words were powerful, but I saw her baking as powerful. She did it with such love, such care, such attention, it turned out delightful every time. She always had business, with people making special journeys for her sufta, a thick bread filled with nuts and dates that was perfect for traveling. It kept your appetite sated for many hours of a long journey. I thought back to the sufta roll on the ground near the hole where Auntie had hidden me. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to focus. I would cry if I thought too deeply about the ills that could be happening to Auntie right now.
A lump rose in my throat. I needed to find Zygam’s temple and help Auntie, while managing to avoid Zygam himself. I needed a scarf, perhaps even a veil. My olive skin would start to darken under the hot sun if it remained uncovered. My hair, which went to the middle of my back, was in a braid and tied off at the end. That was how I kept it from tangling while I slept. I quickly unbraided it and tried to arrange it so it covered as much of my face as possible.
